Lo's Halloween Special
by Hannibal the Animal
Summary: I recently found that some of the Halloween scary stories my dad would tell me are on creepypasta. I thought it would be fun to put a Fringe spin on them :D
1. Thanks

Olivia lay wide awake in bed; it was 3 in the morning and stupid, little noises around the flat have been keeping her awake all night long. She was still getting used to being here alone—Rachel and Ella had moved into their own flat this morning and until tonight, Olivia hadn't quite realised how accustomed she'd become hearing them through out the night.

That, and she couldn't get the images of John's body after the vehicle flipped out of her head. Bleeding out the mouth, the nose, down his face, while his skin was seethrough…

She shuddered under her blankets and finally decided that the only way she was going to get any rest was if she just turned on her bedroom lamp as a makeshift nightlight. The soft light immediately calmed her and she returned to bed, finally able to relax. She began to count sheep as she drifted off to sleep, until something grabbed onto her shoulder.

"Thanks for turning on the light," John whispered, looming over her. "I was having trouble finding you in the dark."

* * *

**Notes:** _I like the version I know better, but the creepypasta version seemed better suited for Fringe._


	2. The Last Wish

_**The Last Wish**_

The girl with the mocha skin and halo of chocolate curls, the one wearing the classic nurse's uniform—cute little white cap and everything—smiles at him fondly. She looks familiar, but he can't place who she could possibly be. For that matter, he has no idea who he is or why he's in this hospital room.

On a metal cart next to his bed there is a black leather bag, which she unzips and proceeds to remove a large syringe filled with a gold shimmering liquid, setting it onto the cart.

"You may ask your third wish," she says kindly as she readjusts his blankets and pillow.

He wrinkles his nose. "What?"

"You may ask your third wish," she repeats.

Walter stares at her for a moment, thinking she's telling him a joke, then finally says, "I haven't had a first wish—how could I have a third?

"You've already asked your first two wishes. The last one was for me to return everything to the way it was before you had made your first wish. That's why you remember nothing—everything is the way it was before you made any wishes," she explains patiently and holds up the syringe. "So now you have one wish left."

"Oh. All right," he says, still confused at what exactly was happening. "I don't believe in this, but there's no harm in playing along. I wish I knew who I was."

"Funny," the girl said, her grin widening as she injected the liquid into his IV. "That was your first wish, Walter…"


	3. Pale Creature

**_Pale Creature_**

Walter loved peeking through the small viewing hole in Door 9. Inside the pure white room was a pure white creature that Belly had created; it looked like a man but it was completely hairless and was always lying on the floor, eyes closed and save for a few slight stirs of his fingers, deadlike. Walter was fascinated by it and would often spend his lunch break with his eye up to the viewing hole. It never moved and sometimes Walter wondered if it was meant to sleep eternally.

He nicknamed it September, after the ninth month, and sometimes he found himself drawing the pale, strange creature in his notes when he was really supposed to be working on the Cortexiphan formula. Curiosity got the better of Walter and finally one evening he asked Belly about the creature behind Door 9. Belly explained to him that all the occupants of the Ward were created to see into the future, the past, or the present, not always for this world. The concept that September might be soothsaying captivated Walter and that night as he left the laboratory, he drifted into the Ward to look through Door 9.

When he looked through the viewing hold this time however there was only the colour red, solid and unmoving. Disappointed, Walter went home.

The next morning, Walter came in early to work to look through the viewing hole of Door 9 and to his surprise, he found that the room was entirely empty, only white walls. Concerned and upset, Walter went storming off to the lab for an explanation. Sitting at his desk sipping coffee and reading the morning paper, Belly didn't even look up when Walter threw open the laboratory's door.

"What have you done with September?" Walter demanded.

Belly looked up, his brow furrowed in confusion. "September?"

"The creature behind Door 9," Walter explained impatiently.

Belly rolled his eyes and went back to reading his paper, crinkling it in his fingers. "Oh, the Observer. We decided to destroy him. He had a disfigurement."

Walter had never seen anything but alabaster perfection in September. "Not possible. What?"

Belly turned the page of his newspaper. "He had one red eye."


	4. Rufus Under the Bed

_**Rufus Under the Bed**_

Rufus was a miniature collie that had been bought for Peter to help with the loneliness in the household once he moved back home from the hospital. Mommy was always working late in her attic office, locked away and not wanting to be disturbed, and Daddy was never home anymore, so Rufus became his best friend. Peter trained Rufus to lick his hand any time he snapped his fingers, he taught him how to fetch a tennis ball in the backyard, and how to walk along side his walker with him.

At night when they went to bed, Rufus had to sleep on the floor because Mommy said she didn't want him dirtying up the sheets. But that was okay because Peter knew he could dangle his hand over the edge and Rufus was always there to lick his fingers reassuringly.

Lately, Peter was able to walk well enough that he could use a cane, which meant he had more freedom. He took Rufus on walks around the back and front yard, wrapped up warmly in his pyjamas and flannel robe. Sometimes he found small mauled animals like mice and squirrels and while Mommy said Rufus must have done it, Peter had never actually seen his dog do it. Mommy finally said she'd look into it when they found the neighbor's cat chewed up by the mailbox.

One night when Daddy was gone and Mommy had gone to bed, Peter heard strange noises coming from downstairs. He thought of monsters and while it made him laugh somewhat, he was only seven and he still kinda believed in those things. He dangled his hand over the edge of the bed and snapped his fingers slightly, but got no response from the dog.

"Rufus?" he whispered into the dark of the bedroom. "Rufus?"

He snapped his fingers again and finally wet warmth stroked across his hand. Confident he wasn't in the room alone, he climbed out of bed and with his cane, proceeded to head down the stairs to see what the noise was. It was easier for him to go down as apposed to going up, so it only took him a moment to get into the very dark living room. As he reached the almost centre of the room, Peter's cane bumped into something soft, but solid. Startled, he backed away until he was against one of the walls and his hands flitted about the surface blindly until he found the light switch.

On the floor lie Rufus—or what was left of him—and on the wall he had been touching just seconds before had large words written in blood that read,

_**HUMANS LICK TOO**_


	5. Please Return the Mirrors

_**Please Return the Mirrors**_

Mirrors always creeped Peter out. They made him think of experiments Walter used to perform when he was a kid, where he'd sit strapped to a chair, surrounded by floor length mirrors. Sometimes he'd be hooked up to electrodes that sent small tingles of electricity through him while other times he had five or six IVs attached to him. To this day, he still had no idea what the experiments were for.

There was a mirror in his bedroom as a kid and it often gave him nightmares, causing him to wake up in cold sweats, so when he finally got his own place, he removed all the mirrors in the small apartment. It gave him an intense amount of peace and he didn't give it a second thought.

That was, until he began working on with the Fringe Division. There was a sketchy area where he stayed the night at Olivia's to get away from Walter. Olivia's bathroom had a mirror in it, but as long as he kept his back to it, he didn't feel so weird. He could hear Olivia off in the kitchen cooking spaghetti while the tv in the sitting room was playing the news.

He finished with his bath and as he stepped out of the tub, he glanced over at the mirror, where thick steam had on the surface. He watched it uneasily and felt his heart nearly stop when the condensation pushed away in smooth lines, as if someone was dragging their finger across the glass.

_Please return the mirrors, Peter. We miss watching you sleep at night._


	6. If You Tilt Your Head

**_If You Tilt Your Head_**

Peter, who was driving them to work as always, was giving him a funny look. "Walter, have to been wearing your clean clothes?"

Walter, who was making important notes in his notebook as always, turned to look at his son. "Yes, why?"

"Something smells." Peter looked at him suspiciously. "Are you carrying cheese in your pockets again?"

"No!" Walter cried out, trying to defend himself—he'd stopped that weeks ago!

"You'd better not, it's disgusting."

* * *

Walter, who was trying to power through the pain—he'd lost his little baggie of painkillers—felt his concentration break momentarily as his son came up behind his shoulder to nag.

"Walter, it still smells. Now, you can give me whatever it is you're hiding or I can find it."

"Astroturf doesn't smell anything," Walter pointed out, irritated.

His assistant shrugged. "I have a slight cold. Sorry."

"I want the smell gone by the time we go home," his son warned before leaving him to go join Agent Dunham in the makeshift office.

"Well, he's grumpy," his assistant said cheerfully.

"Indeed." He wondered if he ought take his temperature and write it down in his notebook. "I'm feeling a little hot. Perhaps I've caught your cold."

* * *

It was two days later and Walter had his head leaned against the cool glass of the passenger window. He had a slight fever and he was feeling a bit sluggish.

"Well, it doesn't smell so much today," Peter said as they turned towards Harvard.

_That's because I really scrubbed it out this morning with the free hotel shampoo._

Walter managed a grunt, his hands possessively concentrating on the little notebook in his lap.

His son looked over at him curiously. "You feeling okay?"

"I think I may have caught my assistant's cold," he said softly and managed a weak smile for his son.

Peter worried the inside of his cheek, looking concerned. "Well, just take it easy today, okay?"

* * *

In the lab, Walter mostly felt like sleeping, which was not as fun as it sounded when one's assistant had brought in prawns to give LSD to. He was limping slightly, the painkillers not working as well as they should have.

His assistant wrinkled her nose slightly as she pointed down to the bottom of his right leg. "Walter, what's that on your trousers?"

He looked down and to his horror he saw a wet patch on his pant leg, where the bandage was leaking through again. "Oh, nothing. Please excuse me."

He stumbled off to the laboratory's bathroom, where he quickly locked the door behind him. Gingerly rolling up his trouser leg, he could see the olive oil yellow and teastain brown forming an ugly blotch across the white gauze. Cursing quietly, he found the roll of bandage material he had hidden behind the toilet tank. His fingers trembled as he quickly began to unwrap the soiled dressing, having to pause so that he could unbutton the top two buttons of his shirt—_it's so hot in here_—and threw the bandages into brown plastic wastebasket under the sink.

The new bandages in place, he pulled his pant leg down and used a wet paper towel to clean up the rivets of sweat on his face. He was breathing hard—_it's because I don't want them to know_—and he wondered if he was imagining the walls closing in on him.

Walter tried to make his way to the door to write down his observations of his blackened flesh, but he felt so weak…his heart was racing… and he had to slump against the wall…

* * *

"Walter? Walter? Are you okay? You've been in there for an awfully long time!" Astrid pounded on the bathroom door again with her fist and then looked grimly at Peter. "I think you should get the door open."

Together they began to ram the door with their shoulders, trying break it in—Walter had locked it and this was the only way they were going to get in. Olivia watched with a concerned look, leaning her weight on her cane.

The door finally gave way and Astrid went skittering across the floor, losing her balance as she fell against the sink while Peter stumbled and tripped over the body lying on the tiles, nearly cracking his skull on the toilet bowl.

"WALTER!" Astrid screamed, looking at the scientist spread out across the floor.

"No pulse!" Peter cried out as he slipped his fingers onto Walter's neck then turned to the horrified blonde standing in the doorway. "Olivia, call 911! Astrid, get the defibrillator and the CPR shield!"

Both women went off as fast as they could to get the help needed. Astrid returned quickly with the emergency first aid and while Olivia called for help, they quickly tore open Walter's shirt, getting ready to use the defibrillator. That didn't work though and Peter began CPR.

Astrid tried to keep her calm, but her attention was drawn to a strange crusty patch on Walter's lower pant leg, over his right calf.

"What the—" Astrid pulled up his trouser leg to reveal his heavily bandaged calf. Pulling her pocket knife out, she proceeded to cut the white gauze off and revealed something terrifying. "Oh my god!"

Olivia stumbled back. "What's wrong with his leg?"

"This is what I've been smelling," Peter gagged as a putrid smell filled the small bathroom.

The three couldn't break their gaze from the black flesh, filled with pus and green ooze.

"I'm going to be sick," Olivia declared from the doorway.

Astrid covered her mouth and nose with her sweater sleeve. "It's rotting."

Olivia began to dry heave.

"Necrosis." Astrid was unable to look away.

"It's septic shock—blood poisoning," Peter realised. "That's what's made him sick."

"The EMTs are here!" Olivia waved her hands wildly while shouting, "Over here!"

* * *

It was evening and Astrid, who was cleaning the lab up as she always did, approached Peter, who was standing by the electron microscope, staring at a Petri dish Walter had been cutting up fire ants in.

"Sorry about your dad, Peter," she said softly, her voice still a little hoarse from crying. She let her fingers touch his briefly before she handed him a small black notebook. "I found this and thought you might want to take a look at it."

Peter looked at it hesitantly, then back at her before opening it up to look inside it. "He was documenting it?"

Inside the notebook was an ongoing log that Walter had created to keep a record of the wound on his leg, Polaroid pictures included.

"It looks like it." She leaned over and flipped through a few pages. "It says here that it started off as a small cut from one of the medical carts almost a month ago and he became curious what could grow on his own body, so he let it stay."

Peter rubbed at the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Damnit, Walter."

"Day twenty two: My leg looks like the Virgin Mary," she read aloud and studying the picture that was included. "It kinda does, if you tilt it like this."

"Gross," he exclaimed, making a face.

Astrid didn't miss the misty look in Peter's eye and put her arm over his back, trying to give him comfort. Peter said nothing, just continued looking at his father's Virgin Mary.

* * *

_This was a deathfic challenge, not a creepypasta ripoff ;)_


	7. Mercury in the Blood

_**Mercury in the Blood**_

* * *

In the back of the lab by Gene's stall are metal cages built for hosting large animals that are intended to be tested upon, the iron bars heavy and the walls thick. Dark and cold, the cages haven't been used since William Bell and Walter Bishop experimented for Kelvin Genetics empty for over twenty years, their last inhabitants being strange abominations that should have never been created. Cowering in the farthest back point of the metal are two scared humans, hiding in the shadows, trying not to breathe.

Out by a sensory deprivation tank that once held Olivia Dunham is a body, bloody and abdomen torn open, the entrails pulled out and left in scattered pile on the cold concrete. It's Peter and his green eyes are glassy and staring off at an undefined point on the north wall. One of his arms is pulled back as if someone had tried moving him, but stopped abruptly.

A purple leather purse has been abandoned by the coat tree, two tubes of lipgloss and a cellphone spilling out next to a wallet as though dropped quite suddenly. It's Astrid's purse and when the laboratory door opens slowly, it's pushed across the floor, the soft leather scratching on the concrete. To the opposite side of the door is a fallen plastic cup of Slusho, the red drink melted across the floor.

Walter and Astrid cling to each other a little tighter, holding their breath as they hear light footsteps and the door to the lab shuts. Their view with is obscured by the heavy iron bars and the other assorted lab equipment, but they know who it is. Astrid is still a junior agent, so she hasn't been assigned her own firearm to carry with her yet, just the one for use when she's out in the field and that's back at the office. Here at the lab they are vulnerable and defenseless.

"Walter? Astrid?" Olivia calls out softly. "Come out, come out wherever you are."

* * *

Astrid and Walter arrive back at the laboratory, chattering away the way they do when they see Peter lying on the floor of the lab disemboweled, though miraculously still alive, however faintly. Astrid drops her purse and Walter his drink, both rushing over to the man's side.

"Peter!" Walter sobs.

"Who did this?" Astrid cries, taking his hand as they kneel next to him.

It's apparent he's been shot in the chest as well, but apparently the wound hasn't been fatal but disabling. Peter's eyes shift to her as Walter touches his son's intestines fearfully.

"Olivia…" Peter hisses, a small rivet of bloody spittle running out of his mouth. "She's snapped, a psychotic break. She's executing everyone, trying to find the rest of the shapeshifters. She thinks it's _us_."

Astrid's head jerks around to look behind her. "Where is she?"

"She's out looking for you. But I told her you were in the boiler room, down the hall." Peter grabs at the front of father's shirt, his bloody hands in a death grip. "You need to go. You need to get help so you can stop her!"

"Peter, we can't leave you here!" Astrid protests.

"Go! Go get help!" Peter insists.

But Astrid is frozen in fear. "Peter—"

Walter's head jerks up, his eyes wide with fear. "Someone's coming!"

"Olivia..." Peter hisses, pointing back towards the iron cages. "You have to hide. Hide!"

Astrid grabs onto Peter's hand trying to drag him to shelter with them but Walter stops her frantically, pulling her towards the cages. "No, my dear! She'll see the blood trail! If we can survive, it's only a small step to bringing him back. Leave him!"

* * *

Walter and Astrid hold each other tighter as they listen to the footsteps pause by Peter's body, wondering what she's thinking. No doubt she's seen their fallen drink and purse and no doubt sees that Peter's body has been moved since she cut him open. Her footsteps quietly pace around the lab, searching them out and Astrid crosses her fingers, hoping to God that they won't be found.

But soon enough, they see Olivia's shoes and pant legs come into view, stopping in front of their hidey-hole. The blonde leans down, peeking into the cage and a sunny smile crosses her face when she sees them huddled together.

"There you are," she says softly, opening the cage's door.

Olivia pulls out her gun and points it at them. Two rounds in the forehead for Walter and Astrid is screaming like a banshee as the blood splatters across her face, her eyes squeezed shut, still holding tight to him. But she'd stopped soon enough as Olivia executes her the same way.

Tucking her gun back into her holster, Olivia drags the corpses out, Walter by his arms and Astrid by her ankles. She is calm and feels safe. They'll all be okay as long as she makes sure that all the shapeshifters are gone. She pulls up Astrid's sweater and cuts into the young woman's belly, carefully pulling open the skin to examine the guts. Her fingers hold onto the warm, smooth ropes of intestine.

Nope, no mercury. Astrid's okay. She's not a shapeshifter.

She moves over to Walter's body, pulling open his shirt and running the scalpel down his abdomen, gutting him efficiently. She'd hate for him to be a shapeshifter because he's tried to take care of her and she thinks he's funny. Her hands slip into his stomach, grabbing hot organs and slowly she pulls them out, praying they aren't going to be covered in mercury.

She slumps in relief, a broad smile on her face. Blood. They weren't shapeshifters. None of the people she trusted and loved were shapeshifters. She pauses though, realising she's forgotten two very important individuals and takes out her cellphone.

The person picks on the other end picks up after the second ring and Olivia brushes aside a stray lock of blonde hair with her bloody fingers. "Hi, Rachel. Are you and Ella at home?"

* * *

_A giftfic for a friend :)_


End file.
